Once they received their badges and basic gear, the hall slowly emptied.

Newly appointed novice hunters stepped out into the night in small groups, some quiet and overwhelmed, others whispering excitedly about mentors, assignments, and imagined futures.

One by one, they drifted home.

Except for three.

Teclos, Gillard, and Ralph remained standing in the town square.

It was cold. Their breath fogged in the winter air, drifting upward beneath a sky scattered with pale stars. Lanterns along the street flickered lazily, casting long shadows across the cobblestones.

For a moment, none of them spoke.

The badge was finally pinned to their chest.

The word hunter was now added to their name.

Gillard stared down at his own insignia, fingers brushing against the metal.

"We did it, boys," he murmured quietly. "We made it."

The words hung in the air for a few seconds.

Ralph froze.

Then—

"AAAAAAAA—HA! HAHA!" he exploded into laughter, throwing both arms into the sky. "HELL YES, WE DID IT!"

His voice echoed violently through the square.

"OOOOAAAA!" Gillard suddenly roared as well, all composure shattered. "WE’RE HUNTERS NOW!"

Teclos felt something inside him open, like a door he had kept shut for years finally letting in light.

"FINALLY! HELL YEAH!" he shouted into the night, joining them.

For a few glorious seconds, they didn’t care.

They didn’t care about the cold outside or about their dignity. They didn’t care who listened to their outburst.

Because they were finally hunters, with the official papers and everything.

Recognized by the whole town.

Then, suddenly, after a few more seconds of shouting—

"SHUT UP, YOU RASCALS! SOME OF US WANT TO SLEEP!"

"Who is screaming this late at night?!"

"Holy hell! Shut up, will you?!"

Windows creaked open.

A boot flew out of a second-story window and clattered uselessly onto the street below.

The three of them froze for a second, startled. Then they looked at each other and bolted.

Laughter followed them down the street as they disappeared into the alleys like criminals fleeing a scene.

—

A week passed.

The guild hall became a second home.

Teclos learned its corridors, staircases, and hidden corners. Storage rooms, training chambers, processing areas, offices—each had its own purpose.

All of the novice hunters were shown the facilities in detail. The sheer scale of it all was overwhelming at first. The underground levels alone felt like a fortress within a fortress.

But gradually, it began to feel familiar. And after a while, belonging began to replace their awe.

Now—

Chilly morning air seeped in through the guild hall entrance as Teclos stood near the reception counter.

Ralph leaned against one of the oak desks, arms crossed, pretending not to look nervous.

Gillard stood upright beside them, gaze calm and trying his best to look sharp.

Around them, the other novice hunters gathered in loose clusters. Some fidgeted nervously while others whispered among themselves. They tried and failed to appear confident.

They were all waiting.

Waiting for the hunters who would guide them for the next year.

Finally, the door creaked open.

Several heavy boots stepped inside the hall.

They belonged to the fully geared hunters who had just entered, cloaks dusted with snow, weapons resting comfortably at their sides.

They scanned the room—

Then smiled.

"Alright," one of them called out warmly. "Which one of you poor souls is mine?" A crooked smile appeared on his face.

Laughter rippled through them when they saw the trainees fidget among themselves like a herd of sheep.

The hunters wasted no time.

They quickly located their assigned novices, calling out names, clapping shoulders, gesturing toward empty tables scattered across the guild hall. Small groups formed as each mentor began outlining what the next year would look like—training schedules, field duties, expectations.

Teclos waited.

He had assumed—perhaps foolishly—that one of three men would approach him.

Ulmak.

Kosak.

Or Talmir.

Instead, all three ignored him. They passed him without so much as glancing in his direction when they called out different names and sat at tables with their trainees.

For a brief second, Teclos felt a flicker of confusion.

Then—

"Talmir’s kid, eh?"

The voice came from behind him.

Teclos turned around.

The man standing there was entirely unfamiliar. Clearly in his forties, maybe older. He carried himself like a seasoned veteran—relaxed but dangerous.

He was smaller than Teclos. Barely reaching his shoulders.

Which meant Teclos had to look down slightly.

A thick scar ran from the man’s forehead, over his left eye, and down across his cheek. The eye itself worked—but it gave him a permanently narrowed, predatory look. His hair was black, streaked with gray, and cut short. A rough goatee framed his jaw.

He looked like someone who had seen way too many things in his life.

Teclos was momentarily stunned, as he didn’t know who that man was. He had never seen him before in this town. Then, finally snapping out of it, he bowed quickly.

"Good morning, sir!"

The man snorted.

"Forget the ’sir’ part and follow me."

Without another word, he turned and walked toward the exit.

Teclos hesitated only half a second before following him.

They left the guild hall.

And even left the town.

Then, suddenly, entered the forest.

The walk was long, quiet, and felt directionless.

There was no explanation of where they were going.

No small talk either.

Just the sound of boots crunching snow beneath their feet.

After nearly half an hour, Teclos finally spoke.

"Pardon my rudeness, si—" he caught himself. "...but where are we headed?"

The man didn’t look back.

"Boy, like I said, forget the ’sir.’ You’ll see soon enough."

And soon enough came.

They reached a small shed deep within the woods.

It looked ordinary at first glance—wooden walls, slanted roof.

But as Teclos stepped closer, he saw them.

Runes.

Inscribed all over the exterior, carved deep into the wood and filled with faintly shimmering mana residue.

It seemed like a protective barrier was around it, and its walls were reinforced.

The old hunter reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a ring of keys, and unlocked the door.

It creaked open, and inside—

Were weapons, lots of them.

Curved blades of different lengths hung neatly along the walls. Throwing knives arranged in rows. Several bows of varying draw weights. Bundles of arrows. Short swords. Daggers.

Teclos blinked.

"Mister... why is this shed here?"

The man stepped inside and began moving weapons aside casually.

"It’s my personal stash, kid."

He grabbed a short sword from a rack and turned, tossing it lightly toward Teclos.

"Now take this."

Teclos caught it instinctively.

"And leave the rest of your weapons here."

Teclos stared at the blade in his hand.

Then at the man.

"May I ask... why?"

"You may not."

The answer was final and left no room for arguments.

Before Teclos could react further, the hunter stepped forward, removed Teclos’s bow from his back, unclipped his daggers, and relieved him of his sword and every utility-based piece of gear he carried.

All that remained was the short sword in his hand.

The shed door closed behind them with a dull thud.

As the lock clicked, the old hunter turned around and began walking deeper into the forest again.

"Follow me," he said casually.

As they walked deeper and deeper into the forest, something felt off to Teclos.

There were no birds chirping, no animal sounds at all.

Like the forest was abandoned, there was only silence. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

He became tense at this unnatural phenomenon, but since the old man kept leisurely walking, he said nothing and relaxed after a while.

After nearly half a day, gradually ascending toward the lower skirts of the mountains, the old hunter suddenly stopped.

He turned around with an unreadable expression.

"We will train your stealth today, kid. Your mana is well suited for that," he said casually.

Teclos straightened slightly.

"You will return from here to the shed and bring back my short sword."

What? That was it?

The man’s eyes narrowed faintly.

"I wish you good luck. And remember—" A brief pause. "Hide."

And then he suddenly vanished.

One moment, he stood in front of him, and when Teclos blinked, he was gone.

"...What?"

He turned around in a slow circle, but only an empty forest was in front of him.

"What kind of mana does he even have...?"

There was no distortion in the air or the ground. No footsteps.

He just disappeared.

Teclos exhaled slowly.

"Just return? Is he testing if I get lost on the way back?" he muttered to himself. "I guess this will be easy..."

He adjusted his grip on the short sword and began walking back the way they came.

At first, he moved casually.

Still alert, of course.

He was deep in the forest, after all.

But the path had been straightforward. He remembered the terrain and the direction of the slope.

So he thought it would be easy.

But then, a few hundred meters in—

A chill crawled down his spine.

His instinct flared, and he dropped to the ground quickly.

Something white blurred past his head with a violent whizz, slicing through a lock of his hair.

He rolled and sprang back to his feet.

A beast landed silently several meters away.

It had white fur, a lean body, and red eyes.

It was a frost lynx.

Larger than Teclos himself, its fur almost glowing pale against the snow-dusted forest floor. During winter, they were considered apex predators in these parts.

Cold sweat poured down Teclos’s neck.

A frost lynx was far beyond his current ability in a direct fight.

And he had nearly died without even realizing he was being hunted.

"Shit..."

The lynx crouched low, its muscles coiled.

Above its head, mana gathered—

Sharp and dense needles of ice began forming mid-air.

Teclos’s mind raced.

Since he couldn’t win head-on, he needed a distraction.

Time to escape.

Darkness stirred around him.

Shadows erupted from the ground in a circular perimeter around him, blocking some vision like a thick black curtain while also forming writhing tendrils of darkness.

One coiled around his own waist from behind.

When the lynx pounced.

Teclos lashed out, trying to bind it mid-air—

But the lynx launched its ice needles at the same time.

They impaled the shadow constructs effortlessly, tearing through them like brittle cloth. The lynx shredded the remaining tendrils with its claws and momentum alone.

It burst through the collapsing darkness faster than he anticipated.

But before it could reach him—Teclos yanked himself upward.

The shadow around his waist tightened and slingshotted him into the air.

Claws sliced empty space beneath him.

Mid-air, he twisted and slashed downward with condensed darkness mana.

A crescent of black energy tore toward the lynx.

It dodged the attack cleanly and effortlessly.

But that wasn’t the point.

He had bought himself precious seconds with that attack.

Once he hit the ground, he rolled and immediately sprinted away.

With no hesitation or pride.

Branches whipped past his face as he ran.

Behind him—

The silent hunter pursued him, and it was faster than him.

A sharp crack split the air.

Teclos twisted his body just in time, and with the help of his tendrils, he managed to escape fatal damage. A jagged ice needle tore past his shoulder, grazing him, the cold biting deep into his flesh like venom. He hissed but managed to push forward without slowing down.

He rolled, stumbled to his feet, and ran again.

Behind him, a low, rumbling snarl echoed.

It started forming another ice needle.

Teclos didn’t dodge it this time, but instead turned around in the blink of an eye.

Just as the ice needle formed, he lashed out.

Two tendrils suddenly snapped around the lynx, wrapping around its forelegs mid-cast. The beast was thrown to the ground violently, and it staggered back to its feet.

With this chance, Teclos didn’t wait for the lynx to get up and was already moving.

Toward it.

He pulled himself in with one tendril he cast around a tree next to it, surprising the lynx—flying straight into its blind spot, above its head.

"Got you."

Condensed darkness formed along his blade and arm.

The edge carved across the beast’s back, deep enough to tear fur and flesh alike. It was somewhat shallow, but a burst of dark blood still stained the snow as the lynx recoiled with a furious, pained roar.

Teclos launched himself away as he bought himself some more time, shadows gripping branches, trunks—anything—flinging him through the forest in rapid bursts.

Leap after leap, his confidence and relief rose.

And after a minute of running, a thought crept into his mind.

Maybe he had lost it and could return now, back to the shed, and be finally done with this day.

Sadly, it wasn’t meant to be.

Multiple ice needles suddenly flew toward him, and he had to dodge.

With a sharp pull, he hid behind a tree, just in time as the needles peppered the air where he would have been.

’Dammit!’

He cursed in his mind, as it was persistent, and Teclos had just made it angry.